After The Test
by JckPrnc
Summary: After Roland's test of manhood, things spin in a different direction.


I don't own of the characters. I mean no harm.

I

"I have known for two years." Steven said in an almost hushed voice.

"You _knew?_" Roland asked. "How could you allow this to continue, father?"

"Do you believe I feel not the anger of this situation?"

"I imagine you feel it greatly. Why bottle it? Take the enchanter to the dogs!" Roland shouted.

"Castles, boy. You're slow, but some day you'll learn some strategy. I am a few moves ahead of the old mage. Besides word from my watchers is that the Broadcloak took flight, Debaria we believe. Something I had hoped for. This occurred shortly after Vannay took Cort to retire. You're lucky. I suggest you pay him a visit, and soon."

Roland managed his trousers and boots. Steven turned toward the open window. He looked down in time to see an old hostler scurrying off with the recently discarded 'prentice revolver.

"Why so soon? Surely he's taking to sleep. Retirement as you say?" Roland asked.

"'Soon, because mayhap you won't be seeing him for awhile. I am postponing my hunt. Men, wheels down from the Clean Sea, have put Farson and Latigo on approach to Mejis. They circle In-World striking when they know we're not present." Steven said.

"Am I going there? To the Outer Arc?" Roland said, fastening his remaining, useful belt around his waist. The holster hanging low on his right hip. He pulled hi bracers over his shoulders and followed his father to the hall.

"I had planned to send you, yes. You, that joker, and the Thudfoot, but seeing as how my trip over the Shaved is on hold, I feel it would be irresponsible for you to be there unsupervised, as it were. Your ka-mates will tag along, a good lesson in diplomacy, surely, but I and Christopher will take the lead."

"Not Robert?" Roland asked. Steven put a finger to his lips in an effort to quiet Roland.

"No. One Allgood should prove useful enough." He descended the stairs as the ladies of the den watch in awe.

_The Lord of Light at a whore house?_

He turned to Roland, "Step quick boy!" With one angry look to his son, the ladies dismissed their previous thoughts. Hopes dashed.

"No, I'll be leaving Bobby and Charles in my stead. Someone has to watch Gilead."

Roland passed his father on the stairs, taking the lead towards the drape door. Seeing everything, as Steven was known to do, he used the next few fleeting seconds to save face. For he knew well enough what the whores were already gossiping about.

He reached out and gave the boy a push between the shoulder blades. "Foolishness, making me track you down in this dank cave!" Roland gave a half turn and saw the slightest smirk on his father's face. He understood and let his own face drop just as he passed the jilly with whom he spent the previous night.

II

Robert Allgood, Christopher Johns, and Abel Vannay all stood next to one another. They stood in Steven Deschain's office listening as he finished up a rather lengthy summation.

"And that is why he has entrusted it with various other parties."

"And you really believe he retrieved it from the sea?" Robert asked.

"That was the rumor," Steven answered.

Vannay, (wearing a rather conservative suit jacket, and his hair pulled back from his face) stepped forward with his right hand raised to his shoulder. Steven nodded, his one hand drawing over his mouth, pulling down his mustache.

"Yes Abel, please speak."

"Sir, that is merely a story. Folklore." Vannay said.

"True. But you of all people know that the pink monster exists. You yourself have seen another, among an infinity or strangeness wash up on our shore." Steven said.

"What you say is true my Lord. I only mean to point out that the stories of these dreadful items are just that. Do not under estimate the true power of these baubles. Obviously Farson has experienced what I fear, and he is not daft. Not to be a slave to the ball, he's paid or forced another to remove it from his presence, stripping him of his burden." Vannay stepped back to his previous spot.

Robert finished rolling the last of three cigarettes. Passing the first to Deschain, second to Christopher and the last he offered to Vannay. The old philosopher shook his head.

"Nay, sai. Say thankya."

Robert nodded and lit it up for himself. Vannay dug into a pocket and produced a medium sized tuberous root, and cracked it in half. Immediately the gunslingers smelled ginger. Vannay bit off a piece and stowed the rest back into his pocket.

"I say when he is relieved, we relieve him some more." Christopher muttered.

"What are your intentions with it, may I ask?" Said Vannay.

"I'd hope to use it to our advantage. Surely preparations can be made to ensure some safe usage?" Steven asked. He flicked some ashes into a sooty clay cup on the desk. The cup was beginning to fill up with ashes and the roach remains of previous cigarettes. So much so they were spilling out of the crack that ran down the cup's side.

"Mayhap my Lord, mayhap. I still must caution you. What it shows you is not some Fair Day trick. You must take-" Vannay was cut short by a knock on the dinh's door.

"Enter," Steven said. He took a seat behind his desk, motioning for the other three to do the same. The heavy ironwood door opened and in stepped Roland, Cuthbert and Alain. Roland saluted, placing the top of his right fist against his forehead.

"My Lord," he said. The other two followed Roland's example.

"May I take my leave, sir?" Vannay asked.

"Yes, of course," Steven said, flicking his cigarette. He took another long drag. "When you see Cort at sundown, tell him he is to be up and about by the next full moon. I want another class ready when I return." Vannay squinted, then upon seeing Steven's head nod ever so much, he understood and nodded in return. It was the most that anyone was going to see in the way of condolences from their dinh.

The room, while off limits to anyone not under immediate invitation, was familiar to Roland despite what little time he'd actually spent in it. Alain and Cuthbert took in their surrounding. Alain moving only his eyes, while Cuthbert moved his entire head, mouth open in awe.

The desk, also made from ironwood sported several astonishing things. A long, flat, curved sword, with a handle made from braided leather. Directly behind the foreign sword was a metal sphere supported on a pedestal. It was painted blue, with black lines encircling it different directions, and on one side was a piece of sheep skin, inked like a map. In front of Steven himself were two books. Books! Actual ink on paper! This would have been even more amazing had there not been a three tiered set of shelves behind the dinh's head, arched like rainbows, each full of books. A treasure above the king's head.

"Boys," Steven said looking to 'Bert and Alain. "Sir," he continued looking towards his son. "The Affiliation is taking advantage of a situation. I trust Roland's tongue was loose before you even stepped over my threshold. So I doubt your visit is a surprise." He looked down at his books, closed the one that showed a detailed drawing of a grapefruit sized ball, the illustration was surrounded by by words written in the High Speech. "There's a need for us, and you. This will be a perfect way to gain the upper hand on the problem of The Good Man, to quell his insurrection."


End file.
